


until you’re gone

by jjokkiri



Series: monsta x bingo (winter 2017) [9]
Category: Monsta X (Band), 우주소녀 | Cosmic Girls | WJSN
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Dystopia, Future Dystopia, Monsta X Bingo, Multi, child!jinsuk, child!jooheon, child!juyeon, child!yeonjeong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9873191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Changkyun recalls the days he’d spent trying to find safety; the years he’d spent alongside the man who meant the world to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _Dystopian Future_ square of [Monsta X Bingo](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/MXbingo).
> 
> This work has a special place in my heart as the writer. Personally, I do believe that I could have written this better, but the style I have presented it in seemed to be the best way of _telling_ the story. The work, in bonds and relationships, hits somewhere so very close to home for me and I do hope that the meaning it holds to me somehow comes across to you, as the reader. 
> 
> To A, thank you for holding my hand throughout the time I was writing this, and to FS for keeping me writing when I couldn't push through writing whatever was left of the work. And a special thank you to the Twitter family for encouraging me and anticipating my work. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

 

With careful hands folding a fluffy blanket over his arms into a neat square, Changkyun took a seat next to the little girl sitting up in her bed and brought his hand up against the flickering flame of the candle, protecting the light from the gentle gust blowing into the room. The small boy snuggled up in his bed next to the window noticed the action and sat up, turning to the window and pulling it shut. Changkyun smiled at the boy and moved his hand away from the flame.

From where he was seated, Changkyun could see the glimmer of light from the stars outside of the window. Absently, he couldn’t help but remember if he ever saw the stars shining so brightly, as a child. But, then something in the back of his mind reminded him that even if he didn’t, his brother had always reassured him that there would be better days, when the stars would shine brighter.

Kihyun was always right. Changkyun could hardly help the smile which graced his lips at the thought of his older brother.

“Are you thinking about something that makes you happy, hyung?”

Changkyun looked up from where he was staring at his hands. The inquiry surprised him, but he made no hesitation in smiling and nodding, “I am,” he answered. The little boy who had asked the question smiled back at him, all bright and toothy.

“Are you going to tell us a bedtime story, now?” the boy asked, tilting his head.

And suddenly, Changkyun remembered where he was: _the shelter. The safe haven he’d built alongside Kihyun._ There was a small boy and a little girl sitting in their beds in front of him, hands folded carefully into their laps as they stared at him with bright, innocent eyes.

Looking at them now, he could remember the day he’d met them for the first time, two years ago. Jinsuk, the small girl, had been curled up into herself, injuries littered across her tiny body as she cried in the middle of the empty forest, nearby. The older cities had all burned to the ground and families found themselves struggling to survive, but children were always taught to run as far South as they could with the promise of finding safety, if they found themselves away from the smog and flames. Jinsuk had been lucky that Changkyun had found her——he’d taken the small girl into his arms and offered her a safe haven; she’d followed him with teary eyes.

Jinsuk came to the shelter first and Minhyuk had come home from a hunt with a small boy bundled in his arms, days later. The boy hid behind Minhyuk, shy eyes downcast and introduced himself to Jinsuk as _‘Jooheon’_ , when the girl offered him a cookie——something Minhyuk had given her as a treat in the morning. She’d given him a toothy smile and promised him they’d be the greatest of friends. She wasn’t wrong. Not long after their meeting, the children became inseparable——Changkyun had to move Jooheon into the room Jinsuk once shared with one of the older girls.

This was what made him smile, when he thought of the promises his brother made him. These children saw brighter days than he had, in his childhood. They’d built a home for the children in hopes that one day, they’d find a safer world to live in.

“Of course,” he told them, turning towards the bookshelf. There were few books on the shelf, but each book was thick and woven neatly together; all of them were handwritten by Kihyun, after listening to travellers tell the stories. His brother always had a creative mind to turn tragic stories into bright, cheerful stories which taught lessons to children. Changkyun had always been envious of that. “What story would you like to hear?”

His fingers were already tracing along the leather spine of a book, when Jinsuk spoke up, voice quiet: “Oppa, you promised you’d tell me the story about the shelter,” the small girl peered up at the older man with wide eyes, her tiny fingers curled around the plush material of the blanket, blinking at him. Changkyun paused, fingers dropping a little from the book.

“It’s bedtime,” he replied, the traces of a sad smile on his lips. “It’s a long story; I can tell you in the morning, Jinsuk-ah.”

“But, you always say that,” the girl complained, a frown forming on her lips. Changkyun pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, slightly embarrassed at the fact that the child had caught onto his procrastination of telling her a story which she’d been waiting for years to hear.

Running his fingers through her long locks of dark hair, the man chuckled and shook his head, “You want to hear it, now?”

Jinsuk nodded with her long locks of hair exaggeratedly flying as she nodded, smiling brightly at him and clasping her hands together as if pleading him to tell her the story. Jooheon, returning from shutting the windows, scrambled onto the bed next to Jinsuk, eyes bright with an inexplicable excitement, “Is Changkyun hyung finally going to tell us the story?”

Jinsuk frowned when Jooheon laid down and squeezed her into a smaller space on the bed and she pushed the boy, slightly, to make herself more room on the bed. The eight-year-old boy frowned at her and Changkyun chuckled at the children.

“Jinsuk, be nice. He’s older than you,” Changkyun scolded and the girl immediately folded her hands into her lap, nodding obediently as if she were afraid that Changkyun would change his mind and refrain from telling the story. It was adorable, because under any other circumstance, the seven-year-old would frown and insist that Jooheon was merely a couple months older than her.

He was unsure of why the children were so obsessed with learning his story and the story about the development of the shelter. They’d only heard in brief stories about strange theories, but being under the care of someone who helped develop the first safe haven, they couldn’t help but ask. That much was something Changkyun understood, but they had been asking him for years. Minhyuk had told him it wouldn’t hurt to tell them the story, because they could always bestow hope into the children——pray they’d continue a legacy.

Changkyun simply felt strange when he recalled the memories. They were bittersweet memories, but he couldn’t imagine returning to that time——every waking hour had been walking, running and trying to survive. Kihyun had made everything so much more bearable, but Changkyun’s heart ached when he thought of the past. He supposed Minhyuk was right; it wouldn’t hurt to tell them.

It just hurt to remember the moments where Kihyun held onto him, fear glistening in his eyes——afraid that Changkyun might one day leave him alone. Changkyun never did. Never could. His older brother built him a home he couldn’t ever leave. Kihyun meant the world to him.

Inhaling, Changkyun folded his hands into his lap and leaned back in his chair.

“We were just like you, once upon a time...” he started, “Or maybe, _I_ was.”

 

 

 

Dawn had yet to break the horizon, when Changkyun remembered being shaken awake by his older brother. The room was dark and their only source of light came from the raging fires from the nearby forests. Changkyun could still remember the scent of burning wood as Kihyun held onto his hand, pleading him with a soft whisper to awaken and get out of bed. And when Changkyun’s eyes fluttered open, the young man moved to rub his eyes and his older brother ran a gentle hand through his hair.

“Get up,” came Kihyun’s gentle voice. “Get your things, we have to go.”

Instinctively, he followed the instructions. He had always been taught to listen to his older brother and be good; the sun had yet to rise and he was exhausted, but Changkyun was given instructions and he would follow them. The eight-year-old boy sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes, blinking at Kihyun.

Kihyun’s hands were warm and so much bigger than his; the thirteen-year-old boy reached his hands forward and took Changkyun’s hands into his own with a small smile——broken, but reassuring all at the same time. Wide, innocent eyes peered up at his older brother and the eight-year-old boy blinked curiously.

“Hyung, where are we going?” Changkyun’s voice was quiet as his clumsy feet moved himself onto the floor; standing in front of Kihyun, dark hair falling into his eyes. His older brother brushed the stray locks of hair out of his eyes and his lips pressed into a thin, sad smile. Changkyun knew no better than to believe in the sole fact that Kihyun was smiling.

“We’re going to go somewhere safe,” Kihyun told him, wrapping the young boy in a blanket and fastening it with a torn sheet. Changkyun stood where he was, letting Kihyun fasten the makeshift jacket onto his body. There was a distinctive panicking note in the way that Kihyun moved, but Changkyun would learn much too late that Kihyun had seen too much.

Sleepily, the young boy followed his brother to the other side of the room, blanket wrapped around himself, unsure of what was happening around them. It was then that Changkyun finally noticed the candle in his brother’s hands; Kihyun had been cradling the flame with gentle hands as he threw a bunch of undefined items into a small bag and slung it over his shoulder. Placing the flame down onto the table, Kihyun reached for the burgundy coloured cloak hung on the rack and he wrapped it around himself.

“Come here,” he whispered and Changkyun moved closer. “Put this on.”

Kihyun handed him the backpack which he’d packed with miscellaneous items and Changkyun obediently nodded. The older boy picked the candle back up, after securing the bag on his own back. Changkyun remained muted as he stared after his brother. Kihyun’s free hand took his smaller hand into its grasp and he began to move towards the door.

“Quickly, Changkyun,” Kihyun urged, pushing the younger man forward. The thirteen-year-old boy ensured that his little brother walked ahead of him, their hands still intertwined as he held the candle and made his way out of the small building.

The air around them was frigid and Kihyun could feel himself exhaling smoke from the coldness and his immediate worry fell to the wondering if his little brother was warm enough under the weight of the makeshift blanket-cape. Changkyun didn’t own a cape like Kihyun’s——thick and warm; the younger boy was much too young to have obtained their family’s traditional apparel. The boys earned the privilege of carrying their family name and honour on their shoulders when they turned ten; Changkyun hadn’t reached the age. The blanket should be enough to keep him warm.

Still, Kihyun worried about the younger boy’s warmth as they found their way through a safe path in the woods, away from the fire and away from the high-rising buildings in the direction they’d come. The candle was enough to light their path through at least two nights, if Kihyun was careful with it, but they had a long way to walk——a long way to safety; a long way home.

Changkyun muffled his yawn with the corner of the blanket as he waddled after his older brother with tiny footsteps leaving tracks in the thin layer of snow on the ground. Kihyun slowed down and turned around, the cape wrapped around his shoulder swaying with the wind and the silver emblem fastened to the cape glistened under the dim twilight.

“Are you too tired to walk?” Kihyun asked, worry evident in his eyes, flickering in the candlelight.

“I’m okay,” Changkyun mumbled, rubbing his eyes again, with small fists and he fixed the bag on his back, moving to continue following his brother.

The thirteen-year-old boy took pity on the younger and exhaled softly, looking back at the path they’d taken to where they were standing in the woods. It had been a good hour since they had started walking south; they were far enough away from the fires and the city. Kihyun deemed it safe enough for them to slow down, at the very least. His sympathetic heart ached as his steps slowed to a stop and he turned to walk towards Changkyun’s smaller body——the younger boy had fallen behind after the first half-hour of walking through the woods.

“No, you’re not,” Kihyun told him. “You’re going to collapse, but we have to keep moving.”

Shrugging his bag off, Kihyun placed the candle he was holding onto the ground, letting the light flicker dimly. He draped his bag over Changkyun’s shoulder, along with the other bag and fastened it with a hook he’d stolen from one of the drawers, back at the place they’d come from. A small hand assured that the bags wouldn’t fall and he gestured for Changkyun to climb onto his back.

“Hyung,” Changkyun started, quietly, “You hurt yourself the other day, and you can’t carry me.”

Kihyun sighed softly, shaking his head, “I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Changkyun replied. “You’re not going to be okay. You’re going to hurt your back. I can walk.”

“Changkyun, please just climb up,” Kihyun pleaded, eyes shifting behind them, worriedly. Changkyun seemed to sense the panic, and his eyes followed Kihyun’s.

“What’s wrong, hyung?”

“Changkyun, we don’t have time,” the older boy told him, the note of urgency rising in his tone. “We need to hurry and find safety. We need to go. _Now._ ”

The eight-year-old boy’s eyes widened and he nodded, when Kihyun’s voice turned stern. But, at the change in Changkyun’s expression, Kihyun’s visage softened and he picked the candle up from off the ground, turning to look at his brother. Changkyun carefully hopped onto the older boy’s back.

The horizon burned with an amber light and Kihyun hooked his arms carefully around his brother’s small legs, and picked him up and wrapped Changkyun’s small arms around his neck to ensure the younger boy’s security. His cloak pushed itself between Changkyun’s legs and the coldness bit at his skin, but Kihyun refused to let it get to him. His free hand cradled the candle as he made his first, shaky step.

“Go back to sleep; I’ll take us somewhere safe.”

 

 

 

The North was known to be the more developed part of the country. In history books, children learned about a world where there were bridges connecting cities and waterfronts glimmering under bright sunlight; the North was described to be a rebuilt version of that city. It was supposed to be the better version of the city; a city with high-rise buildings, a city with an air of class and exquisiteness. Initially, such a country was the dream and the citizens lived in happiness with the developing world around them; it was a utopia of sorts.

Nothing could have been more perfect than a dream come true as a country itself.

Only at the beginning of the development, everything seemed to be perfect. They didn’t teach the children in history books about the slow downfall of everything. That was passed down by parents to their children; quietly, in fear of having others hear them. The exquisite life was difficult to follow; the rich became richer, and the poor somehow vanished from the scope of the world. Families, once tightly knit together as a perfect community, began to keep secrets from one another and fell apart, slowly.

Then, the Government found themselves falling deeper into the temptation of capitalism. In the history books, the downfall of the country was completely erased as if it didn’t exist. History was written as if everything had gone accordingly to the plans of the government and there hadn’t been a single flaw in their corrupt ideas. It caused a divide in the seemingly perfect country: communities found themselves falling apart from one another and banding together in similar ideas of a perfect world.

Scholars lead the communities which eventually became known as _clans_. And in a few years, there was a clear divide between the country: _the North and the South._ The Northern Clans seemed to hold a stern belief in the world being perfect as it progressed to a more capitalist, luxurious lifestyle and ignored the scarcity of resources for the poor; the Southern Clans seemed to believe in a more fair belief of the world needing to return to what it once was.

The initial division of the country started with the lack of resources for the Government to develop the entire country alike to what was now known as the North. The division of beliefs was obvious in the appearance of the country. A large forest divided the country and children of the upper class and the scholarly on either side of the forest were taught that the other side was forbidden land. Stories were spread about the forest; different versions in each clan, whether Northern or Southern. They all shared the same moral: _no one came out of the forest alive, whether on the side they came from or out, on the other side._ Thus the forest earned its name as the _Forest of Miracles_ , named by the elders for the sake of pure irony, because it would be a miracle if one were to make it out on the other side of the dense kilometers of pure forestry.

And then, there began a segregation in the communities as the younger generations began to disagree with the beliefs of the scholars who headed their clans; it forced a development of smaller clans, where children were forbidden to speak to others outside of the clans they were born into. Simply because their parents insisted that the beliefs of other clans were wrong and it was unforgivable to listen to anything a child from another clan said; they were apparently meant to convert. The trust in communities diminished with the division of the clans.

In the North, the clans were divided into six, named after the head scholars in each individual clan. The most luxurious of families wore dark navy coloured cloaks, known as the Shin Clan. Then, there was the Yoo Clan, adorned in burgundy; Son, emerald; Chae, grey; Song, scarlet; and the unnamed wore black cloaks, dissociating themselves from the division of the clans. Each individual clan eventually developed their own speech patterns over the hundreds of years of separation and others could easily tell if someone was not from the clan they’d grown up in.

The South had a division of three clans; closer knit, though lacking genuine trust in one another, only because of the lack of belief in something which had fallen apart, initially. Perfect communities didn’t exist, but if they did, then perhaps the South would be the closest to such. The South was comprised of the most luxurious Lee Clan, wearing sapphire-coloured cloaks; Lim, gunmetal shades; and the free folk, who refused association with either clan, wore white cloaks and wandered between each clan, peacefully.

The lack of luxury seemed to push an idea of peace and fairness between the clans, but they still found themselves segregated by their differences.

Where the North was more developed with high-rise buildings, capitalistic greed and luxury; the communities south of the forest were known to be more rural and kind to their natural environment.

And years after the division settled as a peaceful state, the world broke itself apart with a war. The Government, located in the North, demanded the slow destruction of the forest in order to create more space for the further development of their cities. The Southern communities rose to a disagreement, because when the division had been settled, both parties agreed that the forest was forbidden and sacred property, meant to be untouched by either side. Only the insane were brave enough to step near the forest, let alone destroy it.

It caused a broken warfare. Both sides lacked the true weapons for war, but their disagreement burned a tension throughout the country.  Friction scattered itself throughout the Northern Clans and somehow, it became a country against the government; a power hungry governing system and a petrified country.

Relentlessly, the Government continued with their reckless insistence of burning the edges of the forest, and in fear, parents taught their children to find their way south, where it was rumored to be safe. And regardless of whether or not it was the truth, telling children to escape and find their way through a hopeless forest in a desperate attempt to find safety was better than letting them grow up in a shattered society. Anything was safer than the North.

The Yoo Clan lead the first rebellion, which started the cold war nearly four-hundred years ago and their descendants found themselves still fighting that war. The other clans followed the action and the movement grew as the Northern clans bound together to fight a hopeless war, in a desperate wish for the peace they once had when the country was whole. The Government failed to relent their force, and parents desperately sent their children Southbound in hopes of wishing for their safer lives, if the South would accept them as their own.

Yoo Kihyun and Yoo Changkyun were the children of the survivors of the seventh generation after the war began. And as soon as their parents were assassinated in their own home, it became set in stone that the rest of their lives would be spent running.

 

 

 

They couldn’t tell where they were. True to the stories every child heard from their kin, every turn in the forest looked the same, but Kihyun was insistent on the fact that if they continued to walk straight, they would find their way out. Eventually. But, eventually was better than never.

Mother had promised him, when he was seven, that if they ever needed to run away, then they would have to escape through the forest; run straight and never look back ( _“Kihyun-ah, you were born into a clan which carries danger with its name. You must always be careful of the people around you, and you can’t trust everyone,”_ she told him, with a gentle voice as she fastened her cloak around his neck, letting the material pool behind him with a kind smile. _“One day, our home might not be here anymore, and if you’re scared, I want you to run through the Forest. As far as you can away from here, and take your little brother with you. Can you promise me that, Kihyun-ah?”_ ). Thirteen-year-old Kihyun trusted in that word with everything he had.

It was at least noon: the sunlight filtered through the leaves above them, and Kihyun’s arms hurt from holding his little brother up on his back, but the young boy was still fast asleep, and he didn’t have the heart to wake him. With a sigh, Kihyun placed the candle which he’d long blown out onto the ground to mark their path and he moved towards the trunk of a large tree to put his little brother down. Surely, they’d moved far enough for Kihyun to take a break.

They weren’t being chased. Not yet. But, Kihyun couldn’t help the fear bubbling through his veins at the idea of being found. Father had told him that they were a hunted clan and if ever they couldn’t protect Changkyun and himself, then the children needed to run as far away from the North as possible. Though the North bound together as a united army against the Government, the four-hundred year old leaders of the rebellion were always the hunted by the Government.

The descendants of the clan were expected to follow in the footsteps of their ancestors, thus the elimination of the clan itself was the Government’s solution to peace. The South, which recognized no governing body, would be much kinder to the hunted children, as the North became a world of rampant fires and unsafe territory.

(“Until he’s older, don’t tell your brother,” Mother had told him with a frown on her face. Kihyun had looked up at her in confusion and she carded her gentle fingers through his hair, “You can’t let Changkyun grow afraid of the world around him, Kihyun-ah. He’s too young, but you’re brave and I know you will protect your brother.”)

Leaning back against the trunk of the large tree, Kihyun exhaled. The thirteen-year-old boy pulled his cloak off of his shoulders and draped it over his little brother’s body, ensuring that Changkyun was warmth and comfortable, rested against the tree trunk. Then, he sat down on the floor of the forest next to his little brother with his brows furrowed into a displeased expression.

“I wish I could tell you what was happening, Changkyun-ah,” Kihyun said, looking up at the light shining down at them from the way the leaves gave way in the form of small spaces. “But, mother told me that you can’t know until you’re older, and I’m older than you. I have to protect you until you’re old enough to take care of yourself.”

The smaller child shifted in his slumber and his head tilted, falling against Kihyun’s shoulder. The older boy affectionately ran his fingers through the younger boy’s hair, and they lingered where they combed through the locks in need of a haircut.

“You’ll trust me, right?” Kihyun continued, looking to his little brother’s sleeping visage and his voice broke as he forced himself to keep speaking to the empty forest air, “You’ll have to trust me, you know? Mother and father aren’t here anymore...”

 

 

 

Changkyun woke when the sun was slowly headed west in the sky. Kihyun supposed that his little brother hadn’t slept well in the night time, but it was to be expected, considering he had shaken the young boy awake before the crack of dawn. The older boy had fallen asleep against the tree next to his beloved younger brother; exhaustion dragging him into a deep sleep.

Rubbing his eyes with tiny fists, Changkyun had looked over to his fast asleep brother and blinked in confusion. The child, afraid, gently shook Kihyun awake with cautious hands and he peered at his brother through shaggy bangs. The small child held onto the older boy’s hands until Kihyun was shaken from his slumber, curious eyes looking into Kihyun’s visage. Rousing from his rest, the older boy blinked as he looked at his little brother.

It took a second for Kihyun to recognize their surroundings, and his immediate instinct was to look to where he’d placed the candle earlier in the day to mark their path. Seeing the object still in place, a sense of relief filled the older boy and he looked to Changkyun.

“Changkyun,” he breathed, “When did you wake up?”

The small boy looked at Kihyun, eyes shaking, “Hyung, where are we?”

Kihyun’s heart sank and he wished he had an answer for the curious inquiry. He wished he could just tell Changkyun everything without fueling an inexplicable amount of fear into the younger boy’s mind. Changkyun was too young to have to be exposed to all the evil in the world. That’s what Kihyun’s heart told him. He needed to protect his little brother with everything he had. Even through his restlessness, all the older boy could think of was Changkyun’s safety (because surely, everything would be alright if Changkyun was okay).

 _How was he to answer him?_ Perhaps, he could just tell him that they were in the middle of a forest; the same forest they’d been warned by their clansmen to never enter. Perhaps, that wouldn’t frighten Changkyun, if he knew they had one another. A part of Kihyun’s heart wished that were the case. Every inch of Kihyun wished that everything were that easy——that if they had just _hope_ and one another, they would be okay.

Father taught him better.

“We’re headed somewhere safe,” Kihyun assured him. The thirteen-year old’s eyes flickered with a glint of regret and he squeezed his little brother’s hands, gently. “Away from the bad people.”

Changkyun looked at him with confusion in his eyes, unsure of what was happening; unsure of what Kihyun meant when he spoke of the bad people. To the young boy’s knowledge, the world as he knew it was beautiful and there wasn’t a single thing to fear. Such naivety, such ignorance; that bliss——it would all be missed when he learned the truth. When he would be forced to grow up.

“Bad people?” the boy repeated.

Kihyun nodded, as he got up from where he was seated, rubbing his eyes. Changkyun handed him his cloak as he did so, and the older boy draped the swath of heavy fabric over his shoulders, quickly fastening the emblem on it.

“Yes,” he replied, “Bad people. They’re trying to find us and do bad things, Changkyun-ah. Mother and father told us to leave the North.”

“Where are mother and father?”

Kihyun froze, his fingers unable to move for a moment, before he gripped into the burgundy fabric and averted his eyes. The thirteen-year-old directed his eyes to the sky, watching the setting sun. Changkyun pushed the inquiry as Kihyun failed to grace him with a response. The older boy simply turned and motioned for his little brother to grab their things and continue down the path with him.

“I miss mother and father,” Changkyun whimpered, following the older boy as they walked away from the tree. “Why aren’t we with mother and father?”

If he lacked the patience he’d always been taught to have, then maybe Kihyun would have snapped at his little brother and demanded that he stop asking silly questions. The lack of a true acknowledgement would help him avoid the striking pain beating at his heart at the mention of their parents.

And there was a constriction in Kihyun’s chest; tears threatening to prick at his eyes as he refused to look his little brother in the eye and tell him about everything he’d seen. Ignorance was bliss. It would be better if Changkyun didn’t know. Kihyun’s heart ached at the idea of keeping secrets from his little brother.

But, if they never got out of the forest alive, then maybe they’d find themselves wherever their parents were.

Kihyun swallowed, hard; _“Mother and father are somewhere safe.”_

 

 

 

“Kihyun hyung was really brave, wasn’t he?”

The children peered at him with curious eyes, but it was Jooheon who voice the inquiry. Changkyun’s lips curled into a thin, fond smile at the mention of his brother and he nodded, eyes shining with a tender affection.

“Of course, he was. He was the bravest person I’ve ever known,” Changkyun told him. “I just wish he had told me everything earlier. Maybe, then that would have helped him a little; maybe, I could have done something for him. I was your age, but I couldn’t do anything to help him. He was all alone.”

“No,” Jinsuk was quick to argue. She’d always had the sharper tongue, between Jooheon and herself. “You were with Kihyun oppa the entire time, weren’t you? That means that Kihyun oppa wasn’t alone, silly oppa.”

The brunet’s lips curled into a smile at her remark, though he knew that had anyone said the same words, he would have immediately made to decline the proposal of such an idea. In his earlier years, he’d been nothing but a dead-weight for Kihyun. And he knew his brother would hate to know that he thought of himself in such a way, but it was almost impossible to think otherwise, after the fact.

“The best thing in the world,” Jinsuk started, “Is when you find someone to be with you when you’re alone. That’s what you told me, oppa.” Changkyun couldn’t argue that. He’d told her such words when he’d taken her into the shelter. “You were with Kihyun oppa, and that makes you the best thing in the world!”

And Jinsuk would never know how right she was, but a child’s logic was always so carefree and naive. Kihyun would have wished for all of them to have retained their childish bliss for just a few more years, before everything went downhill. That much of his brother’s wishes were something that Changkyun was well aware of.

_Something he knew as an inarguable fact._

Jinsuk leaned against Jooheon’s shoulder and she smiled, “If Kihyun oppa was the most brave person you’ve ever known, then oppa, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever known!”

Changkyun chuckled, reaching out to card his fingers affectionately through Jinsuk’s hair.

“Don’t say that,” he scolded, lightly, “Your Minhyuk oppa will get jealous.”

“Minhyuk oppa knows I like him just as much,” Jinsuk replied.

And then curiosity glimmered in her eyes as she shifted on the bed and curled under the sheets, looking at Changkyun with wide eyes. Jooheon mimicked the action, laying down next to the small girl. Changkyun found himself wondering if Kihyun ever looked at _him_ and felt so many emotions all at once——like a beautiful storm, somehow filling you with this need to protect.

Knowing his brother, it was almost undoubted. And his lips curled into a small smile at the thought, because the mere memory of every second he spent with his brother was a moment he would always treasure in his mind. The memories were almost as precious as every second he spent breathing.

“Hyung, what happens next?”

Changkyun exhaled.

 

 

 

Days pass and it’s endless walking through the woods. There lacked a proper pathway for them to walk on, likely due to the fact that no one has probably dared to walk so deep into the forest. The dirt pathway eventually became tall grass and the brothers struggled to find their way through the seemingly endless forest. And days turn to weeks; the rations of food which Kihyun had packed into the backpacks were slowly becoming scarce.

Changkyun’s hair was getting longer and the strands were slowly beginning to fall into his eyes in a way which made it hard for him to see. Kihyun had found a length of rope to tie back his own hair. The walking seemed to be endless and the path just seemed to get longer, the further they walked.

At some point, Kihyun almost lead himself to believe that maybe, they were walking in the wrong direction. But, when the snow on the forest ground slowly becomes less visible and the skies are kinder to them, he forces himself to believe that they’re heading in the right direction. For the sake of himself and Changkyun. One of them needed to believe in what they were doing.

Nightfall is always the dreariest.

And Changkyun stops being sated with the response of their parents having found safety. One of their lonelier, sadder nights has the young boy crying into his knees as his older brother tried to calm him down, hopelessly. Changkyun’s tears streamed down his cheeks without a clear end, alike to the seemingly endless forest.

“If mother and father went somewhere safe,” Changkyun sniffled, “Why didn’t they take us with them?”

Kihyun’s heart clenched and he wrapped his cloak around his brother’s shoulders with sad eyes.

“Mother and father left us alone and now we’re running away,” Changkyun added. Kihyun felt a pang of guilt in his gut, and it feels like someone was tearing out his insides; ripping into him and shattering his heart. Seeing Changkyun so broken simply tore the older boy to pieces.

But, he’d give up anything if he meant that his little brother was safe. He’d promised that to his parents, and though they were no longer walking the same earth, Kihyun would stay by his word. It was the one thing he could keep in memory of his beloved parents: the well-being of his little brother.

“Mother and father didn’t want to leave us behind, Changkyun-ah,” Kihyun managed to say. Changkyun looked up at him with glassy eyes and the eight-year-old boy looked so fragile; Kihyun was suddenly afraid that a single word might shatter his brother.

The memories of what he’d seen came back to him in flashes and echoing screams——hiding behind a wall and watching as strangers came into the safe confines of their home, Kihyun recalled the moment he heard the ricocheting gunshot ringing through the room and watched as his mother fell to the ground. The next moment, his father was being held down by the men and their voices rang out clearly as they asked if his parents had children.

Shakily, Father had answered that they didn’t. A blatant lie as Kihyun stood behind the solid wall, eyes shaking with fear. But from the corner of his eye, he could recall Father making one last moment of eye contact with him: _Kihyun, run! Please run as far as you can!_

And running upstairs with quick footsteps, he’d shaken his little brother awake and pleaded that they’d escape the place they could once call home, with wholehearted reassurance that they would be safe. Everything had changed in the moment that their parents took their steps off the face of this planet.

“You know that mother and father would never want to do that. They love us more than anything,” Kihyun told Changkyun, his eyes shaking as he looked at his little brother, unsure of how to comfort the crying boy. And he was reassuring himself of everything he was saying as he said it; pleading himself to believe in it, and praying that his little brother would take his word. Pray that Changkyun wouldn’t lose faith in what was left of humanity.

“They didn’t have a choice.”

 

 

 

Winter comes to an end, finally. The snow on the floor of the forest cleared out and it became easier for the brothers to trek through the wilderness.

They have few joyful memories in the forest, but through counting the days, there had been a morning where Kihyun had awoken and presented his little brother with a flower he’d plucked from somewhere nearby. With a small smile, obviously trying to shed a light on their unfortunate situation, the older boy had pressed a kiss to the smaller boy’s forehead (“You’re the bravest boy I know, Changkyun. I’m so proud to be your older brother,” Kihyun had said, ushering the flower into Changkyun’s hands, “I know we can’t really be happy, but we have each other at the very least, right? So, happy birthday. I love you.”).

And at some point, Kihyun slowly began to lose faith in the existence of the Southern clans; perhaps, it never really existed and they were walking endlessly to an imaginary place. Still, he couldn’t manage to suggest the idea to his little brother, whose heart had been shattered when Kihyun finally revealed the truth to him about their parents.

Every morning, through the treetops, it seemed as if the light could hardly find its way through the cracks between the leaves; it was almost pitiful. It seemed as though the entire world was against them, because even the sky couldn’t light their way. Their bags were lighter, now; they’d used up most of the things they had brought with them.

Finding a safe haven in a broken world was close to impossible, but miracles do exist. By a slight of sheer luck, the brothers found themselves on the verge of starvation when they’d discovered a sign of life in the forest. After months of walking in practical circles, living on a small amount of food and the rare amounts of edible plants, it seemed surreal to approach another person.

Mother had told Kihyun to not approach strangers, because they couldn’t be trusted. But, shedding his burgundy coloured cloak and leaving it with Changkyun (hiding their heritage upon approaching the stranger), Kihyun had taken the risk. The older boy ensured that his little brother was well hidden, before approaching the elderly woman (“If anything happens to me, Changkyun, you need to run, okay? If anything happens to me, you need to get away from here and run as far as you can. South is safest; the South is always the safest.”).

And if blessings were real, then perhaps the brothers somehow found their way to walk under a lucky star.

 

 

 

 _“He was sick,”_ Changkyun said, looking to the children with a small frown on his lips. “He never told me. He wanted us to keep on walking, to make it somewhere safe. He collapsed as soon as he made it into the home. Mrs. Lim took care of him and put him to bed. I remember being so scared for him, because I didn’t know if he would wake up.”

Jooheon and Jinsuk stared at him with wide eyes, and the little girl looked as if she was going to tear up from the story. Changkyun hesitated in continuing the story, because when Jinsuk started crying, she wouldn’t stop. Minhyuk would never let him alone if he made the little girl cry——the children were treasures to the older man.

Jooheon grasped onto Jinsuk’s hand and pat it gently, soothing the small girl, when he noticed the glistening threat of tears in her eyes. They earnestly looked to the twenty-nine year old, encouraging him to continue his story——reassuring him with their eyes that there was nothing wrong.

This was why he never wanted to tell them the story of how the shelter came to be——the story behind himself and his brother. But, the children were his only chance at the continuation of a legacy they could continue to build: a safe haven in a world that was slowly destroying itself. If they understood the deeper meaning behind why the shelter stood with pride, then perhaps they’d carry along the home he’d built.

“He had a fever and he’d worn himself out with so much of his energy that had Mrs. Lim not found us, he might have had his life end in the middle of the forest,” he said, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips at the memory. “That’s why they tell frightening stories about the forest, maybe.”

With a sigh, Changkyun clasped his hands together and took a breath.

“His first words when he woke up,” Changkyun started, “Was my name. He called for me, the second he opened his eyes and realized he was somewhere unfamiliar. He wanted to know that I was safe...”

 

 

 

The old woman had taken the brothers under her protection, with a kind heart. She’d offered Changkyun the warmth of a gunmetal coloured cloak when the young boy had turned ten years of age. Kihyun insisted that he would continue to wear the pride of their Northern clan on his shoulders in memory of their parents, and kindly turned down her offer of a matching cloak for himself.

Lim Dayoung, an elder of the Southern Lim clan’s notable apothecaries, was a widow who lived alone in an abandoned village. She’d married a man who came from the North, but he’d passed away several years ago. Perhaps, that was why she was so kind to a pair of children who came from the North; Dayoung never had children of her own, and she gladly took care of the brothers, because they provided her with a happiness she never knew.

Grateful for the elderly woman raising them, the brothers helped with whatever they could around the home, when Kihyun’s health returned to what it once was. And the years passed in peace——the brothers found a safe haven and someone to trust in; a home to hold onto. She told them stories of the South and the culture they’d all grown up in——raised them like children of her own and loved them with everything she had.

But, everything whether for better or for worse came to an end, eventually. Joy——that absolute bliss of being reminded what it felt like to be loved and treated as a child; that sweet love they knew before their parents passed and left them to strive on their own——lasted just a few years for the brothers.

On the day of Kihyun’s nineteenth birthday, Dayoung found herself bedridden and unable to move; she’d grown too old and weak. And no matter how much they wanted to avoid the inevitable, they all knew that her life was slowly coming to an end. Together, their hearts broke in the last moments of her breathing she’d taken to teach the brothers everything she knew. In the Southern clans, knowledge was the most important factor of life, unlike the greed of power in the North.

So, draping their cloaks over their shoulders, they left behind the home Dayoung made them, and the brothers found themselves on route to find a new home. Somewhere hopefully more than temporary.

 

 

 

If a safe haven didn’t exist in the world, then they would need to make one. At twenty years of age, Yoo Kihyun decided that they’d gone far enough away from the North to be safe. Mother had told him that it would be safe anywhere, as long as they made it south, and they were lucky enough to have done that.

They stayed alone, wandering the smaller villages and rarely ever staying in one spot for more than a week. They continued to move across the land in hopes of finding a place where it would be safe for them to build a home for themselves. That was at least what Kihyun wanted. He smiled to his younger brother, who leaned against him when they found themselves in the safety of a quiet hotel (because it seemed that the colour of the cloak on Changkyun’s shoulders granted them a thousand favours——it turned out that Lim Dayoung had been more than just a loved scholar throughout the South).

“Dayoung built us a home with everything she had, and I want to do that for the children who wander alone,” Kihyun told Changkyun with a small smile, when the younger man was folding the sheets to return to the hotel owner. The fifteen year old boy chuckled and shook his head.

“When will you start looking after yourself instead of other people, hyung?”

“It makes me happy to know that everyone is safe and sound,” Kihyun answered, “I think that’s enough to be considered as taking care of _me,_ don’t you think?”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then I’m in no position to argue with you,” Changkyun answered, simply. Kihyun ruffled his hair and made a face at him, but he helped the younger clasp the brooch on his cloak before they left the hotel, hand-in-hand.

And they could have spent the rest of their lives with just one another by their sides, because Kihyun could have been happy with just that. If Changkyun was safe and happy, then Kihyun’s mind was in a good place. He’d promised his mother that he would take care of the younger boy and he wouldn’t ever dare to spare a moment when he wasn’t actively fulfilling that promise.

But, for the better, they don’t end up staying alone with one another for very much longer.

When Changkyun turned sixteen years of age, Lee Minhyuk came into their lives as a piercing arrow.

A literal arrow to the trunk of a tree in front of them, when they were moving from one village to the next, through the woods. Turning their heads to where the sharp arrow had flown right past them, Kihyun pulled Changkyun a little closer to his side, as if trying to protect him from whatever the threat may have been.

A man stood just a few meters away from them with a bow in his hand and the material of a sapphire coloured cloak over his head. Changkyun visibly shook in fear at the sight of a weapon and Kihyun held the younger man’s hand tightly, reassuring him that everything would be okay (that they would still be together, if anything).

“Don’t hurt us,” Changkyun whimpered, hiding behind his older brother’s crimson coloured cloak. Kihyun’s heart clenched and a feeling of guilt filled his head, because even after all of these years, he hadn’t been able to rid Changkyun’s mind of everything _frightening._

He approached them with slow steps and the brothers slowly backed away from their position, but a gloved hand reached out to pull the arrow from out of the trunk, before he turned towards them. The dark cloak contrasted against the bright light of the afternoon sky, and it only induced fear into a pair who never knew much more than fear and the affection of those who cared. Any stranger immediately was associated to fear.

“You’re not from around here,” the man had said, before pushing the hood of his cloak back and revealing a handsome face, dark locks falling into his eyes. Those same eyes looked at the brothers with a soft, genuine kindness and Kihyun heard himself heave a breath of relief. He was younger than both of them had assumed, when they were graced with such a strong presence, but he couldn’t have been any older than Kihyun was. “This forest is dangerous if you’re not armed. Are you intending to cross?”

Kihyun had nodded, unsurely and the man smiled, “I live on the other side of this forest. You can come with me, if you’d like.”

With hesitation, they accepted the offer and followed Minhyuk through the forest. True to Minhyuk’s words, they may not have crossed the forest in one piece if they hadn’t possessed a weapon. A long-range weapon, because there wasn’t much that Kihyun’s daggers could do for them in a forest where all the animals were practically twice their size.

After the country had developed into that futuristic vision of the world that the history books wrote as dreams, humans became the only living things to exist in the North. Kihyun and Changkyun only read of animals in storybooks and when their parents told them of when the country was still one. It frightened both brothers to be in such close proximity with an unfamiliar natural life, but Minhyuk was so used to such an environment, as someone who was born and raised in the South.

The archer offered them a place to stay for the night, finding himself intrigued by the fact that a pair of what were once Northern residents were wandering the Southern villages, so young and alone. It was almost unheard of for the North to associate themselves with the South, save the stories of parents begging for their children to save themselves.

So, sitting around the warm fireplace in Minhyuk’s small home, the brothers sat closely to one another’s side as Minhyuk served them a warm soup. Had they remained in the North, there wouldn’t be a chance they could meet people as kind as Minhyuk was. Though, the cloak on Changkyun’s shoulders blessed them with an opportunity to others to provide them with endless favours.

The light inside of Minhyuk’s home was offered by the flickering light of the fireplace; dim, as it cast an orange glow on their faces, enhancing each curve and edge of their features with a soft shadow. It was warm and comforting.

Changkyun wondered how someone could live so comfortably, so close to the woods like Minhyuk was. He seemed to be alone, and the younger man couldn’t grasp the idea. Dayoung had lived alone by the edge of the forest, too, but she’d been away from a village and completely alone. It seemed as though Minhyuk chose to live away from civilization. And the question lingered on the tip of his tongue, though it never left.

Kihyun was the one to question Minhyuk; casual conversation after his little brother burned his tongue and sat covering his mouth, as Minhyuk laughed softly at him, eyes flickering with a fond glow. Changkyun flushed in embarrassment and Kihyun looked to the archer with curious eyes.

“How did you know?” Kihyun asked, bringing the spoon to his lips and watching as the clear soup steamed in his bowl. The sudden inquiry elicited an easy reaction from their host. Minhyuk raised an eyebrow and he chuckled lightly.

“How did I know what?”

“That we weren’t from the South,” Kihyun replied. He had always been the one who was more vocal about his curiosity. Minhyuk seemed to take it in stride and easily answered his questions.

“No Southern resident, adult or child, would be afraid of someone who wears a sapphire cloak,” Minhyuk explained, “We, our clan, we’re known for being the fairest form of what the South recognizes as a leader.”

“You’re... a leader of the South?” Changkyun asked, voice quiet. The terms were associated in his mind to the Government, and he’d always been taught that the Government wasn’t good. If that was the case, then they shouldn’t be around Minhyuk. The older man seemed to notice Changkyun’s panic, and he placed his spoon down with a soft smile.

“My family name deems me as someone who is highly respected in the South,” Minhyuk explained. “My ancestors were known to be luxurious people, probably the richest in the South. We’re not quite _leaders_ , per se. The South doesn’t recognize a Government.” The archer rested his hand on the table and made eye contact with Changkyun.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise I’ll keep the both of you safe, if you’ll let me.”

 

 

 

“That’s how you met Minhyuk hyung?” Jooheon asked, eyes wide with amazement. “He sounds like he was so cool.”

Changkyun bit back the laughter threatening to bubble from his lips at the small boy’s remark. He shook his head in agreement, eyes twinkling at the praise to the older man, “He does, doesn’t he?”

Jinsuk’s eyes twinkled and she bounced on the bed, where she sat, “Minhyuk oppa is still cool!”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Changkyun scolded the children, tone playful as he broke his train of thought from telling the story to them. From behind them, the door creaked open and they all turned their heads to where the door was. Light streamed through the crack in the door and Minhyuk peeked his head into the room.

“Are you putting the kids to bed?” he asked, smiling. Changkyun nodded, looking to where the children sat on the bed, eyes twinkling with anticipation for the next part of the story.

“Would you two like for me to make you both some hot chocolate, before you go to sleep?” Minhyuk asked, tone rising in pitch as he bent down at the foot of the bed, looking at the children. They nodded with excitement and Changkyun shook his head slightly (the movement hardly noticeable), the corners of his lips turning up in a smile. Minhyuk had always been amazing when it came to taking care of the children, and it left Changkyun stunned, most of the time.

He’d never known someone so amazing other than his brother. Minhyuk could directly rival Kihyun, and that alone was amazing as it was. His lover turned to look at him, “What about you?”

Changkyun chuckled, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Were you telling them a story before I interrupted?”

“I was,” Changkyun confirmed, and Jinsuk playfully leaned over to push at Minhyuk’s back.

“Oppa, go make us hot chocolate! I want to hear the rest of the story!”

The dark-haired man laughed and nodded, getting up from his position on the floor and raising his hands in defeat. Changkyun threw a pillow after the older man as he ran out of the room, accordingly to the request of the children, before he turned back to where both Jinsuk and Jooheon looked at him with bright eyes.

“Where was I?”

 

 

 

They’d learned a lot in the few days they stayed with Minhyuk. The archer was Kihyun’s age, just a couple days older than him. He lived alone in the small cottage, away from the village because he preferred the peace and quiet, especially since the nearby village didn’t carry a family name to the achromatic cloaks on their shoulders. Minhyuk simply didn’t fit in, when he carried the pride of his family name on his shoulders, bright azure flowing off of his frame. From the archer’s stories, it seemed that all the children of the Lee Clan moved out to live on their own once they met their coming of age——Kihyun never found out what their Clan did, because he’d grown up so far away from home, and Changkyun wouldn’t find out, once he grew up either.

And when they had decided that they overstayed their welcome at Minhyuk’s home, the brothers insisted upon leaving without the need for Minhyuk to escort them away from the forest——that they would be fine travelling alone, because they’ve been alone for the majority of their lives. The archer had shaken his head and immediately refused. He’d given them an offer: to stay with him, else take him with them to wherever they were headed. And it was as if he wouldn’t give them any other choice.

“Don’t you have family to look after?” Changkyun asked, sitting down next to his brother on Minhyuk’s bed, his eyes scanning Minhyuk’s body. Kihyun was carefully sewing up a hole in his cloak, before they left, with thread and a needle he’d borrowed from the persistent archer.

“I’m all on my own, Changkyun,” Minhyuk replied. “The forest won’t miss me too much, and it would be nice to start travelling around the South. It’s boring to travel on your own, so if you wouldn’t mind me tagging along, I’d like it.”

Changkyun’s lips curled into a small smile at the explanation, and he turned to look at his brother. Kihyun appeared to not be paying attention and the brightness in the teenager’s eyes dimmed at the sight. They, Changkyun and Minhyuk, had grown closer in the past few days, and it would break both of their hearts to leave without a word. A part of Changkyun hoped that the other man would come with his brother and himself, wherever they were headed.

His brother had always warned him to not trust in strangers, but Minhyuk had been so kind to them——and how could they not trust strangers, when they’d relied on Dayoung for so long? It didn’t make sense to Changkyun, but he knew that if he voiced it, his older brother would simply shake his head and tell him that he was too young to understand.

Kihyun was always like that, and Changkyun sometimes felt like if he just asked Kihyun to let him grow up that he would break his older brother’s heart. So, he stayed mute as he waited for Kihyun to make their decision. He trusted his brother to keep them safe and sound, after all. That’s what he had been doing all his life.

“Why leave with us?” Kihyun asked, after a moment of silence. “How do you know we won’t take you somewhere and murder you, when you’re least expecting it?”

Minhyuk smiled, “Everyone who comes through the forest does just that: they come through and they leave. You’re the first to stay with me for a few days, and I... really like your company. You two don’t look like you’re dangerous.”

Kihyun raised an eyebrow and Minhyuk laughed.

“The little one can’t even wield a dagger, and I’d like to believe a bow and arrow is much more effective than a knife, Kihyun.”

Even with the insult, Changkyun couldn’t help but laugh at the way his older brother deflated at the remark.

 

 

 

Kihyun’s dreams do come true.

After months of continuing their travels across the South with Minhyuk, they manage to settle down somewhere along the edge of the Northern forest, somehow unable to stray too far away from where they’d come. They found themselves on the other side of the country from where they’d run into Dayoung, but this time with Minhyuk by their sides.

Changkyun was seventeen now, old enough for his brother to let him alone for just a moment to breathe. Kihyun had good intentions in being so protective over his little brother, but as much as Changkyun understood the point, there were times when it started becoming a little irritating to have someone breathe down your neck——he was only five years younger than his companions, after all. Not too much of a child, in his own eyes.

With the effort of three, they build a small home for themselves. Minhyuk slowly became an inseparable part of them, and as much as Kihyun had once hoped that his companionship would only be temporary, he found himself growing attached to the archer’s presence. He had gotten used to the archer being around, and then all at once, it was so difficult to imagine a world without Minhyuk. There had been a lot they wouldn’t have been accomplish without his help, and the brothers owed him their lives.

It was normal for Kihyun to travel into town, because he’d picked up what Dayoung left behind, when she stepped off the face of the world——they worked perfectly as a team: Kihyun providing them whatever money they could get their hands on with selling the medication he’d learned to make from Dayoung; Minhyuk hunted in the nearby forest and Changkyun prepared meals for them, every single night.

(And sometimes, the sun would disappear behind the horizon and neither Kihyun nor Minhyuk would be home, and it would terrify Changkyun, because he’d learned that the forest was much too dangerous, after spending years of his life wandering the woods——but, his older brother and Minhyuk would always come back home and soothe that terror in his heart.)

The home they built together began to grow, when Kihyun came back from wandering to town one morning with a small child in his arms, bundled up in the crimson cloak which he always wore on his shoulders. A little girl with bright eyes, shaking from the cold and dressed in practical rags, save the fabric of Kihyun’s cloak.

Minhyuk had been teasing Changkyun with his blade as he sharpened his arrows when Kihyun rushed into their home, breathing heavily as if he’d been running. Both Changkyun and Minhyuk dropped whatever they’d been doing in favour of addressing their attention to Kihyun. The small girl looked frightened to be approached by two other men and a part of Changkyun’s mind wondered how long it took for her to trust Kihyun.

The twenty-two year old apothecary set the girl down on the floor and her wide eyes wandered around her surroundings. Kihyun knelt down next to her and gently placed a hand on your head, “You’ll be safe here, I promise.”

“Is she staying with us?” Minhyuk managed to breathe after grasping himself again, shaking off the surprise engulfing him. Changkyun was wordless as he stared at the pair.

“Yes,” Kihyun answered, tone firm. “It isn’t safe for a child to wander alone. Her parents passed and... We’re going to take care of her from now. She can’t be alone.”

Yeonjeong was the first child they’d taken under their care and she wouldn’t be the last.

From there, Kihyun’s wishes of creating a safe haven for the wandering orphans began building.

 

 

 

The children come and go, when they stay with them.

The trio would provide the orphans with everything and anything they ever needed and asked for. Their small home became a shelter, and slowly, Minhyuk began to add to their home: expanding the walls to make bigger rooms to accommodate the children living with them. And eventually, travelling into town to work became impossible for Kihyun——his clients didn’t seem to mind the change, though. They made their trips to the edge of town to purchase their medication from him (and sometimes, Kihyun would be too busy taking care of the children to tend to the guests, but they become accustomed to seeing Changkyun hand them the neatly labelled containers in place of his older brother).

It’s three years later, after Yeonjeong had left them in favour of living with the villagers (because she’d grown up running Kihyun’s medication to the villagers who didn’t have the strength to walk all the way to the edge of the forest), does the information about a safe haven for the orphans travel. And it quickly became common knowledge for the townspeople to find young children and direct them to where the two Northern brothers could keep them safe.

Rumors of the Northern children heading through the forest to find safety with the brothers was oft heard of, but the number of stories which reached their ears never seemed to match up with the number of children who actually made it to the shelter. Some lonely nights, when the stars hung low in the sky, Changkyun found Kihyun crying about the thought of the poor children in his room, and the young man’s heart would break for his older brother (and the lost children).

On those nights, Changkyun would sit down in his own room and look to the skies, thinking back to when they were still wandering the forest, unable to see the stars through the treetops. He’d remember the way Kihyun told him that someday, they’d make it somewhere safe when they would finally be able to gaze up at the brightly shining stars and be at peace. They’d finally achieved that, but his heart ached for the children who remained lost in the forest, without a clue of where they were headed.

(And sometimes, Minhyuk would find him crying alone in his room——tears falling down his cheeks without him even having noticed——and the older man would pull him into a gentle embrace, letting him cry on his shoulder. Sometimes, it made Changkyun wonder if he’d always been someone who leaned on others and relied on them to dry his tears——made him wonder if he could ever be as strong as his older brother was.

Other times, it simply made him wonder how Kihyun, as a child, had the courage and bravery to take him through a forest rumored with so much danger. And with a heavy heart, it never failed to make him wonder where his brother learned to be so strong, and how much he had to give up of his childhood for his little brother’s sake.)

 

 

 

For Changkyun, falling in love with Lee Minhyuk was the easiest thing in the world. There was nothing to fear in falling in love with the older man, because Minhyuk accepted everything about him with open arms. They’d known one another for so long that there were absolutely no secrets between them. Minhyuk was happy in the darkest of times, and for someone who grew up knowing darkness for the majority of his life, Minhyuk was a lantern in a dark cave. He felt safe with no one else aside from his brother, and it meant worlds to him for the archer to have such a significance in his life.

The older man held his hand in the slight moments when Kihyun wasn’t there for him——the rare moments when he didn’t have someone to lean on. Such moments hardly existed; his brother rarely ever decided to leave his side, and even when he did, he left his heart and mind with Changkyun——as if it would keep the younger man safe (because to Kihyun, nothing mattered more than the safety and happiness of his little brother——Changkyun would never be able to understand the extent of it).

The sole fear associated with falling in love with Minhyuk was the way Kihyun looked at him with knowing eyes, when he asked his brother if he’d seen the archer, after Kihyun had returned downstairs from tending to one of the smaller girl’s cries (Juyeon never seemed to leave Kihyun alone, when she could help it).

“He’s always with you, isn’t he?” Kihyun asked, brows arched in curiosity, but there was the glimmer of a questioning light in his eyes. Changkyun almost shrunk under the gaze and he nodded, biting down on his lower lip.

But, Kihyun was the kindest and there would never be a moment when he forced something out of his little brother——not a moment where he would demand something ridiculous of him. Instead, the older boy pressed his lips into a small, almost forced, smile and he tilted his head, “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Changkyun?”

And the confession came as a silent gaze of Changkyun’s eyes to the ground, avoiding Kihyun’s eyes. The older boy patiently waited for a response for his little brother. Though, the words never found a way to leave his lips, because of the fear of disappointing Kihyun with his answer. And there was nothing he feared more than that——to someone who had given up their childhood for the sake of preserving his, there couldn’t have been anything worse than feeling like it was all for nothing (like there wasn’t any gratitude associated with everything done for them).

For the nineteen years of Changkyun’s life, however, Kihyun had been by his side and there wasn’t anyone who could read the expressions on Changkyun’s face better than he could. Stepping forward with a small smile on his lips, the older man opened welcoming arms to pull his brother into a kind embrace.

And his voice was quiet when he spoke.

“It’s okay to be in love,” Kihyun wrapped his arms around the younger man and let him bury his face into the crook of his neck. “There’s nothing wrong with being in love, Changkyun-ah.”

But, it wasn’t only Kihyun who could read the mind of someone who had been with him for so, _so long_. The assurance was laced with a kind tone that was used when Kihyun was trying to conceal his fear, and words weren’t needed to explain why. Changkyun could understand the heart of someone who had given everything to someone else; he could imagine what it felt like to feel like you were being left behind.

Mother once told them stories about how her parents’ hearts broke when she left their village to be with their father——Changkyun could assume.

“Hyung, you know I’m never going to leave you, right?” Changkyun told him, “No matter how far we’ve come, there’s still a long way forward from here——trust in me: I’ll take care of you.”

And the response was Kihyun smiling at him, eyes clouded over with incomprehensible meaning and he nodded.

Changkyun’s heart dropped, as if warning him of something——a foreboding feeling that something terrible may happen, but he wouldn’t learn why until it was much too late for him to do anything for Kihyun.

 

 

 

A dark evening where the fading sunlight lit the horizon with an amber glow, raindrops knocking against their window and streaming down the glass in gentle rivulets, was when Changkyun and Kihyun finally were reunited with people who came from their original home. Children who came to the shelter from the North were normal, but rarely did they ever meet anyone who was around their age.

Shin Hoseok and Shin Hyungwon swooped into their lives as badly wounded and absolutely drenched from the rainfall, with glamorous navy cloaks draped across their shoulders. Recognizing the colour and meaning of the cloaks on their shoulders had been an immediate realization for Kihyun, and it took Changkyun just a moment longer——Minhyuk remained clueless, until Changkyun explained it to him.

Fear had struck them——Mother’s warnings echoing in their heads until Hoseok pleaded for them to help his little brother, because he was so afraid of losing the younger man. And the question of what the pair from Northern riches were doing in the South was posed by Kihyun as he tended to Hyungwon’s wounds out of the goodness of his heart——and the fact that he saw a little part of himself in the way Hoseok’s eyes desperately shone when he begged for them to save Hyungwon.

(Kihyun saw Hoseok in himself as the first time they’d met Dayoung; they were almost a perfect mirror, with Hoseok and Hyungwon both only being a single year older than Kihyun and Changkyun, respectively.)

Hoseok had been the one to explain for both himself and his little brother. He’d spoken about how over the past years, the Government had been advancing further on their plans to eradicate the clans who went against their plans to further capitalize the country; said that the disappearance of the majority of the Yoo Clan, the leaders of the rebellion, had caused an almost immediate shift in the power structure in the North.

“You can stay with us until he gets better,” Kihyun told Hoseok, quietly, after Hyungwon’s wounds were tended to and the boy was fast asleep in Kihyun’s lap.

 

 

 

Hoseok and Hyungwon stay with them for much longer than after Hyungwon’s wounds finally healed.

Kihyun had grown a soft spot for Hyungwon and took pity for Hoseok, because they’d lost their mother to illness, and their father had left them alone before Hyungwon was even born. It had been next to impossible to not develop an attachment to those that you could see yourself in——Shin Hoseok and Shin Hyungwon were practical mirrors to both Yoo Kihyun and Yoo Changkyun.

(And Hoseok found himself developing an affection for the person who cared for his little brother almost as much as he did.)

Scars remained scattered across the boy’s skin, but Kihyun gently tended to them whenever he so much as winced with pain at a touch that was too strong.

Like Minhyuk, who slowly became a part of what they were and their cause, Hyungwon and Hoseok joined them——stayed with them for their purpose. It started with Hoseok waking up in the middle of the night to tend to the crying children, because his heart ached to see the brothers exhausted and heading into the rooms to care for the children. Minhyuk was often out of the shelter when they needed a third helping hand, looking for more children protect.

And then Hyungwon started to help, when his brother started looking like he was too tired to function as he let one of the children rest against his shoulder as he slept. It was hard work to run the shelter and the additional helping hands were more than appreciated. Hyungwon helped them with whatever he could manage: sometimes, he’d take over the position as Kihyun’s replacement apothecary when Changkyun was busy cooking and Kihyun was busy with the children.

Eventually, they became a vital part of the shelter and the children loved them. Somehow, Hoseok found himself unable to leave, even if he wanted to——in part for the sake of the children, and another part of him not wanting to leave behind the affection he’d grown for the sweet apothecary who gave his all in caring for homeless children.

It could have all been the perfect puzzle pieces to form a dream come true——the perfect team to care for the broken, lost children in the world; something to give meaning to a world that was slowly falling apart, something to give hope to the unfortunate.

But, that image would have been a miracle——happiness never lasted too long. _Ever_.

The hammer that smashed that mirage of a perfect world came in the form of untold secrets.

And they might not have ever realized had Hyungwon not noticed the change in the way Kihyun held himself with forced smiles and ragged breathing, on the odd day that he worked a little too hard in trying to care for the children.

“Hyung,” Hyungwon whispered, tugging on Hoseok’s sleeve when he thought no one was paying attention to him (obviously unsure if he should have been speaking up about it or not). His brother looked to him with curious eyes, and in a hushed tone, he murmured, “That hyung——Kihyun hyung——he looks like mother, before she disappeared.”

 

 

 

“He kept it a secret,” Changkyun breathed, eyes shaking as he looked up to where the children sat. Recalling this part of the story always struck pain at his heart——recalling the fact that Kihyun truly gave up _everything_ for him. “He didn’t want us to know that he was sick and dying, and had Hyungwon not pointed it out, then we might not have even realized.”

Changkyun’s voice broke with the threat of the tears building, and his throat constricted as he tried to continue speaking. He faltered and Jinsuk sat up in the bed, alert and immediately worried about the older man. And just as she did, the door opened again and Minhyuk entered the room with the cups of hot chocolate for the children in his hands.

He noticed the panic-stricken expression on Jinsuk’s face first, and then he placed the drinks down on the nightstand and rushed to Changkyun’s side, hands immediately moving to brush away the falling tears from Changkyun’s eyes.

“I’m okay,” the younger man breathed.

Jooheon and Jinsuk stood onto their feet, reaching across the bed to wrap their small arms around Changkyun’s figure, apologizing quietly for making the twenty-nine year old man cry. They were too young to understand that it wasn’t their fault, but the children insisted on clambering onto him and expressing their sorrow.

“It’s not your fault,” Changkyun shook his head and stroked their hair, his heart sinking. To make the children feel like they had faults made him feel terrible and Changkyun pressed gentle kisses to their foreheads. “Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

Minhyuk’s fingers ran themselves through Changkyun’s hair and he sighed softly, “Go rest, my love,” he whispered to him, “I’ll finish the story and put them to bed. Wipe your tears and go rest.”

“Is he going to be okay, oppa?” Jinsuk’s eyes shook with fear as she watched Changkyun’s retreating back out of the room. Minhyuk smiled lightly at her and nodded.

“Don’t worry, he’s going to be okay. Your oppa is strong,” Minhyuk assured. “Where did he leave off the story? Would you like for me to finish telling the story for you too?”

The children nodded, despite their frowning faces.

“Kihyun hyung was sick and Hyungwon hyung told Hoseok hyung,” Jooheon supplied, and Minhyuk nodded.

“Changkyun doesn’t know about this part, but...”

 

 

 

Finding time alone after finding out that Kihyun was sick and trying to convince him to tell everyone else, so they could get some help for him was more difficult than anything. He was always with the children; if not one, then many. The young man was stubborn and he put his needs behind everyone else’s. It was what Hoseok loved about him, but in moments like this, there was nothing he could have hated more.

Hoseok tried his best to get a single moment alone with Kihyun to get a confirmation out of the younger man; his state of health was so important to the other man. (And every bone in Hoseok’s body screamed for Kihyun to tell him that it wasn’t true——that Hyungwon was just seeing things, when he’d seen the look in Kihyun’s visage.)

Minhyuk had been returning from the woods when he’d seen the pair standing outside of the shelter, away from the light shining from inside the shelter (as if trying to assure that no one else would hear them). He hadn’t meant to intrude on a personal conversation, but he just happened to be passing by without the knowledge of both party, and overhearing the heartbroken sound of Hoseok’s voice.

Hoseok desperately held onto Kihyun’s hands, a light of pain in his eyes as he stared into the younger man’s expression. Kihyun watched as the taller man squeezed his hands and brokenly whispered; “Kihyun, you have to tell everyone. We need to get you some help, you can’t just handle everything by yourself. I know you’re an apothecary, but only by extension of what Dayoung taught you——there’s someone else out there who can make you _better_.”

“But, how are we going to find them?” Kihyun asked, softly, “It would take too long to find someone who can help me. I can’t leave the children alone that long, Hoseok.”

His tone was too calm and too gentle for someone who was being threatened with his life. It seemed almost as if Kihyun had been long prepared for this to happen——and it was heartbreaking to just think of; the fact that he kept it all to himself, the fact that he hadn’t even had the heart to tell his little brother and let the young man brace himself for the inevitable, if Kihyun refused to seek immediate medical attention.

“You can’t say that,” Hoseok told him, “You’re _dying_ , Kihyun. Who will take care of the children when you’re gone?”

The small stream of light from the window of the shelter shone against Kihyun’s sharp features when he turned his head away from Hoseok, unable to look him in the eyes. “I would hope that Changkyun and Minhyuk would. The children love you and Hyungwon too, so I suppose... that I’d hope you would look after the children too.”

“And what about me?”

A sad smile danced across Kihyun’s lips and he shook his head, “I told you not to fall in love with me, Hoseok.”

And the flicker of realization in Hoseok’s eyes sparked, before he fixed Kihyun with hurt eyes; “... How long have you known?”

“I’ve taught Changkyun and Hyungwon everything I know of medicine, so they can always continue what I’m doing for the townspeople too,” Kihyun’s voice trailed off. Hoseok’s heart shattered with the way Kihyun spoke——as if he was already prepared to step off the face of the world.

(But, he’d always been prepared, since the moment he’d watched gunfire against his parents.)

“Kihyun, I asked you a question——”

The younger man spared him a single glance, and Hoseok immediately fell silent. Kihyun didn’t grace him with an answer.

 

 

 

His wishes were to be with Dayoung, because returning to the North would be impossible--to vanish in fire, like the colour of the cloak and namesake he wore on his shoulders with all the pride he possessed.

He had been bedridden for a just over a week and the sheltered children came in and out of his room to visit him; he told them stories, diligently as he always had (like nothing had changed at all). And Kihyun’s last night in the world they knew was spent with Changkyun; whispered apologies that he couldn’t do more for the younger man. His little brother’s heart shattered, but there was nothing that the other three adults could have done for him; it was a moment shared between the brothers, and not even a lover could ruin it for them. Hoseok and Minhyuk stood to the side with sorrowful minds and broken hearts.

Kihyun didn’t wake up when he went to sleep that night.

And when the children asked of him, no one had the heart to tell them that Kihyun was no longer with them. Hyungwon had been the first to tell the children that he had returned home, because surely, angels would know Heaven as their home (if it existed).

No medicine that Changkyun knew of cured heartbreak and nothing soothed sorrow.

But, for the sake of the man who meant the world to him, Changkyun stepped up to continue the legacy which his brother had left behind. They had always been doing it together, but he needed to make sure that all the hard work which Kihyun had out into the shelter would never be forgotten.

Kihyun had given up everything for him and it was the least he could do for him. Simply because Kihyun meant everything to him, whether he was still with them or not.

And every single person at the shelter understood the intent when Changkyun finally wiped his tears and moved to silently care for the children. The twenty-three year old was finally moving away from the sorrow and accepting the fact that his brother was gone; but it wouldn’t serve as something that made him weaker, because Kihyun certainly wouldn’t want such a thing for anyone.

Changkyun would know it best, because for every living, breathing moment of his life, Kihyun was by his side. And surely, it meant everything for Changkyun to know his older brother like the back of his hand.

Hoseok and Hyungwon leave them, too.

With Kihyun’s ashes, to fulfill the apothecary’s final wishes, they’d taken to travel back to where Changkyun and Kihyun had abandoned the home Dayoung made them. The brothers would rebuild the home into a new shelter; somewhere to protect the children, no matter which side of the forest they came out on.

It would leave a greater mark; the meaning of what Kihyun had intended for the world.

So, with lighter hearts, Changkyun and Minhyuk bid the brothers farewell as they headed west, leaving the home they had known for years.

Kihyun always had a way with words, and Changkyun would think that this is what his brother would call bittersweet, because the stars twinkled above them, bright in the sky. And he would never know if this was the peace his brother once spoke of, despite the storm of sadness in his heart.

Everything was temporary, but he’d do anything to make his older brother’s hopes and dream a permanent legacy.

 

 

 

“So, on the other side of the country, just alongside the forest,” Minhyuk added, “There’s a shelter just like we have here. It’s where Changkyun lived before he met me. Hoseok and Hyungwon rebuilt the place to become a shelter for children like you.”

Jinsuk nodded, eyes bright with amazement and Jooheon’s cheek rested against her shoulder, sleepily. The small boy rubbed his eyes as he leaned against Jinsuk, though she remained completely unfazed by the weight on her shoulder. Minhyuk watched him with affectionate eyes and reached over to run gentle fingers through the boy’s hair.

“Do they ever come visit?” she asked, ignoring that fact that the boy was nosing into her personal space.

“They don’t have the chance to,” Minhyuk replied with a small smile, hands pausing in their motion of carding through Jooheon’s soft locks. Jinsuk tilted her head, prompting an explanation from Minhyuk. “They can’t leave the shelter alone. It’s like if Changkyun and I left you two alone. That wouldn’t be very nice, would it?”

As if understanding, Jinsuk nodded and flashed a smile, lips pulling widely and the apples of her cheeks pushing upwards and drawing a sweet smile from Minhyuk. Standing up and brushing off his pants, Minhyuk reached forward to gently usher the children to slip under their covers. Putting them to bed was always the easiest of tasks, after they’d been told a story.

Usually, Changkyun would be with them to the end, until their eyes fluttered shut and a heavy slumber finally took over their minds, but the younger man had left in an attempt to handle his emotions, just moments prior. Minhyuk’s heart weighed heavy as he waited for the children to finally fall asleep, so he could check up on the love of his life.

Changkyun’s emotions often pulled him too far away from Minhyuk, and the fear of losing the younger man flickered in the back of his mind every time Changkyun cried, thinking of his older brother. Kihyun had been amazing, but Minhyuk never quite understood all of Changkyun’s insecurities, when he was everything to the children.

Jinsuk fell asleep with her head on Jooheon’s shoulder when Minhyuk slipped out of the room and gently padded his way down the hallway to slip into the room he shared with Changkyun, most nights.

The door softly clicked shut behind Minhyuk when the man stepped into the room, and let the door slowly close behind him. It jerked Changkyun out of his focus in staring out of the window next to his bed.

“You know he’s proud of you, no matter what, right?” Minhyuk whispered, sitting down on the bed next to his lover. Changkyun’s eyes fluttered open and he turned his head to look at Minhyuk, a light in his eyes uncertain.

“Proud of me,” Changkyun repeated, his voice just barely above a whisper. “But, how do I know that when he’s not here?”

“You’re here, carrying on his dreams to protect all the children he wanted to keep safe. If you think he isn’t proud of you, then I think I might know your brother better than you do,” Minhyuk’s voice was light and assuring. It lit a glimmering hope in Changkyun’s chest and he sat up in his bed. “He might not be here, anymore, but you tell me that sometimes, you feel like the world is smiling down at you; do you remember what I told you?”

“You said that... that’s him watching over us and smiling,” Changkyun responded, shaking with the threat of tears in eyes which already ringed themselves with red from the previous rush of emotions.

“Do you believe that?”

“I want to.”

Minhyuk’s slender fingers ran through his hair again, eyes softening when they halted and affectionately pressed into the back of Changkyun’s head. “They love you, you know that right? You’re keeping them safe, now. You’re their safe haven, Changkyun. Home isn’t safe and sound without someone there to care and love.”

There was a silence, and Changkyun’s voice broke the silence with that same unsure tone.

“But, what happens when we’re gone?”

“We’ll think about that when the time comes,” came the soft assurance, fingers lacing with Changkyun’s and their foreheads knocking together as Minhyuk gently pushed the younger man back against the bed. “For now, you know that all you need to do is continue to do what you do. The kids love you and they depend on you,” a soft breath, “You mean the world to them, and you mean the world to _me_.”

“I——” Changkyun’s voice broke off and his eyes focused on the sincere flow in Minhyuk’s eyes, “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain, my love,” he replied, voice a hushed assurance that sent familiar sparks of happiness down Changkyun’s spine (and it reminded him of the first time he’d fallen head over heels in love, in the middle of what felt like an impossible world).

“They’ll love you and need you until you’re gone, and they’ll carry on a legacy that means the world to you,” Minhyuk whispered. “Just as you’re doing for Kihyun, Changkyun, because that’s what matters.”

_And someday, when we’re all gone: they won’t even need to know the stories——they’ll carry on with the purpose, because love never got lost in translation._


End file.
